


Fear, Regret, Failure.

by Occultist



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Angst, Boxer Leedo, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Fear, Gen, Idol Ravn, Idols, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21167963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occultist/pseuds/Occultist
Summary: The eldest has always cared, perhaps a little too much. Youngjo should know when to give up, to stop nagging Geonhak because there's a point where all of his efforts fall on deaf ears. That point is now, with Geonhak letting go of his dreams at debuting after getting rejected by an agency.Because there is nothing he could ever say that would get his dear friend to follow his dreams once more.





	Fear, Regret, Failure.

**Author's Note:**

> Geonhak has admitted that there was a period of time where he didn't want to be an idol. Youngjo, bless him, persuaded him to try again but what if, in another alternate universe, he never did?
> 
> Special thanks to Mac (silverette666) for throwing this idea at me.

"I'm not doing this idol thing again."

The eldest has always cared, perhaps a little too much. 

"Geon, please, you can try-" Youngjo's pleas are shaken off, shoved when Geonhak wrenches his arm away, leaving him grasping at air. 

"I said forget it." He growls, a threatening rumble in his chest. They had another argument again- this time, about the younger man's future. "I went because you told me to, hell I even auditioned because you told me to. Don't you think it's time to leave me alone?" The ground beneath them is dotted, stained with suspiciously brown spots that resemble dried specks of blood and the lack of padding is obvious as the only thing cushioning someone's fall is the hard concrete floor. No, it's not your typical boxing ring. Geonhak frequents this underground one much to Youngjo's disapproval.

Here, no one cared if you pulled dirty tricks. 

The younger man loved the thrill of it all. He loved the roaring spectators, the money being thrown around, the sheer rawness of this place when he's in the ring. There's something primal about it, something he can't quite put a finger on but it's there and it's real. Nothing else could ever compare to the feeling of having your whole body pumped up with adrenaline. But for another simple reason, Geonhak liked it here because wouldn't be bound by the typical boxing rules- the stupid ones that tell him not to go overboard or be penalized. His fists hit hard, perhaps with too much weight behind them and it tended to cause issues at official matches. There’s also the little problem of him going overboard during it.

The only rule here at this underground boxing ring is to survive and is the only one Geonhak abides by.

Youngjo bites his lower lip as he stares at his friend with a bittersweet look.“You’re giving up.”

“No.” A heavy pause. “I’m just putting my priorities somewhere else.”

Somewhere else. The elder eyes his shirtless friend, taking note of the various nasty bruises littering his toned body. Some blue, some nearly black- doesn’t make a difference because all of them were received here in this very ring. Youngjo can even see a few scars on his hips, the freshest ones looking like they healed just two days before. It hurt him, shattering his heart into a million little pieces to see Geonhak like this. No matter how many times his friend would say that he’s fine but the injuries he’s putting himself through tell a different story. 

Deep down, he knew that the other still wanted to be on stage. Have his own two feet march up there and declare to the audience, the world, that he’s here, that he _exists._ That confession was said by a tipsy Geonhak after they shared a few beers one late night while hanging out on the rooftop of a parking garage. Youngjo found him admirable, of course. Although the other’s words were somewhat manipulated by that beverage he could tell how much it meant to him. 

So he urged the younger man to audition. This was months ago when Geonhak stepped into a fairly small lobby, pulled in at how nice everything looked. He wore a nice shirt that day, his nametag stuck onto it as he waited to be called inside the audition room. Youngjo was right after him, the two of them easing each other’s tension. Nerves were high, their hearts filled with brave ambitions. It all went by in a breeze and they ended up celebrating that trial by grabbing dinner at a cozy-looking place run by a family. 

Youngjo received news that he passed. Geonhak waited. He waited for days, desperately waiting on the news that he too would be just like his hyung. But that day never came and they slowly drifted apart. They stopped hanging out so much, texts left unread and a sudden lack of phone calls. Part of it was due to Youngjo’s busy schedule but he had always wondered if it was Geonhak who severed their friendship over this. 

”I know you still want to do it.” Youngjo insists, desperately trying to salvage the remains of his friend’s broken dreams. “It’s never too late to try again.” He steps forward as if it would mend the rift that had opened between them. “I know people, they can help you just like they did for me-”  
  
“I don’t want your help.” Geonhak spits, venom in his words. He’s glaring, brows furrowed while his bandage-wrapped hands curl up into fists. “I’m fine. I never wanted to do it anyways. You were wrong about me.”  
  
Deep down, Geonhak doesn’t want to admit that he fears failure. He fears it to the point where he would give up these once in a lifetime opportunities.

But he could never tell Youngjo- successful Youngjo, idol Youngjo, that he was terrified, utterly and absolutely terrified of failure.


End file.
